


We have visitors !

by Zeckarin



Series: And they were roomates... (but there were two beds) [17]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Newton and Machines, Queerplatonic Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), crowley is a drama queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22583035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeckarin/pseuds/Zeckarin
Summary: Crowley is a little depressed lately.But someone can help.February ficlets #5 !"And that's why we can't have nice things"
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley & Anathema Device & Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: And they were roomates... (but there were two beds) [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1523585
Comments: 23
Kudos: 117





	We have visitors !

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you'll enjoy reading that one ! I did enjoy writing it^^

It happened just after lunch, while Aziraphale washed the dishes upstairs, humming a Phantom of the Opera melody under his breath. He could of course have miracled the plates clean, but sometimes doing things the human way was very gratifying.

It was at this precise moment that Crowley started screaming.

The heart-rending cry had the angel drop the last plate and miracle into the back room in a blink, wings spread out menacingly, ready to strike with the flaming butter knife he’d snatched on the counter.

“Crowley !”

The demon froze, mouth agape, phone in one hand, the other one mid-air. Aziraphale considered him for a second before slowly folding his wings back into ether. The knife stopped burning.

“A… angel… hmm…. it’s not exactly an… urgent… emergency,” explained Crowley in a little voice, blushing with shame.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the very surprised butter knife found itself in his usual drawer. The angel took a deep breath, remembering that his demon had been feeling low for two days and needed compassion.

“Crowley… my dear… you know you are my best friend and my favourite person in the world, don’t you ?”

“Ahhhhhh… yeah ?” the demon knew that kind of opening speech wasn’t going to end great.

“But if you scare me like that with no reason again, I swear to God I will be very cross with you.”

“Sorry, angel. Got a little carried away. But look ! My phone died !” Crowley brandished the proof that something truly awful had indeed happened to him and was deserving of at least some yelling.

Aziraphale looked at the shiny, thin, black cellphone. Then a wide smile spread on his face.

“Oh ! This is so lovely !” he exclaimed in delight.

“Whot ? No ! It’s dead, angel ! I lost my game, and I was beating my own score !”

“Oh, I am ever so sorry to hear that… but I was not talking about your phone, my dear. I am sure if you ask Adam, he could beat it for you. You know how gifted he is with electronic games.”

The demon briefly considered feeling offended at the suggestion, but he still felt guilty for startling his friend and let it go.

“What’s lovely, then, Aziraphale ?”

A bright smile answered him.

“Your phone is dead, Crowley ! They must be here already. Oh, I have got to go buy some cake...”

“ _Who_ must be here ?” snapped the demon, losing patience and instantly feeling guilty about it.

“Anathema and Newt, of course. They were coming today for tea. I told you last week.”

“Newt ! Of course it’s Newt ! Damn stupid, clumsy, catastrophic _Newton_! _That's_ why can't have nice things !” yelled the demon as the doorbell jingled merrily.

Aziraphale chuckled and headed to the door.

“Oh, my dear friends ! What a pleasant surprise ! How are you ? Anathema, you look positively _radiant_ !”

Crowley slithered next to him, tips of his fingers in his pockets.

“You owe me a phone, you absolute menace !” he barked in greeting.

“You can deduct it from my witch-finder wages,” answered Newt breezily as he helped Anathema out of her coat.

Crowley grumbled something unintelligible and turned his ire to another target.

“Oh, really, book girl ? Letting a man take your coat like you’re unable to do it yourself ? Pepper would be so pissed to see that. I am disappointed in you, you know.”

“Ignore him, please. He has been unbearable all morning,” explained Aziraphale with a long sigh.

“Oi, angel !”yelled Crowley.

“Oh, poor Crowley,”answered Anathema with the utmost compassion “Did someone kick your bladder all night too ? No wonder you feel so grumpy if you had to go to the toilet every hour.”

Crowley pouted.

“Using pregnancy to avoid teasing ? That’s low, Anathema.”

“Well, someone told me to always use every weapon at my disposal. That fighting dirty to stay alive was always better than being dead and fair-played.”

“I don’t remember telling you that. Sounds like a good advice anyway.”

“Thank you. That was Aziraphale’s advice actually.”

Smiling indulgently at Crowley’s and Anathema’s banter, the angel took both coats from Newt’s hands to hang them on the coat rack near the hat and scarf another client had forgotten half a year ago.

“Do not worry, my dear boy. He is truly glad to see you two.”

Newton grinned.

“I know. I am glad too. And Anathema couldn’t stop talking about today, so I guess she feels the same.”

“How is dear Adam ? And his friends ?”

“Didn’t you see them last Friday ?”

“Why, yes of course I saw them last Friday, Newton. Do you have any idea of what can happen in five days ?”

“All right. They’re all alive and well, then.”

“That is very good news. Would you be amenable to a game of chess ?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Unlike Crowley, who’d bonded with Newt easily after discovering the young man’s genius at dry humour, it had taken some time for Aziraphale to feel at ease around Anathema’s boyfriend.

Chess had been a revelation. Aziraphale loved a good game, and this was an area where Crowley wasn’t of much help. The demon _could_ play, but always ended ignoring basic rules such as protecting his king to rush as many pawns as possible towards the other side of the board like it was some kind of finish line.

Aziraphale was fairly certain Crowley considered his king some kind of evil bastard that didn’t deserve his protection (he never tried to ask, unwilling to know if his friend was associating the piece with Satan, which would be good, or God, which would be… sad).

But Newt… oh, Newt was a very worthy opponent. Under all that uncertainty and low self-esteem was a brilliant mind, and Aziraphale, knowing a lot himself about self-confidence troubles, had set his mind on boosting his new friend’s ego by any means at his disposal.

That of course didn’t mean he would _let_ Newt win a game on purpose. But the human had already won three times, a feat neither Oscar Wilde nor Gilbert Chesterton ever accomplished.

Crowley brought a chair near the chess table for Anathema to sit (“I thought I shouldn’t let men do things for me” “Well I’m not a man, I’m a demon, and you shouldn’t carry heavy stuff, you’re ginormous.”) and declared he was going out for cake.

“Is something wrong with Crowley ? He seemed a little off.” asked Anathema as soon as the Bentley’s roar erupted on the street.

“Well, his phone died,” provided the angel with a pointed glare at his opponent, who only raised an amused eyebrow in answer. “but I think he needs to spread some evil. One of his demonic deeds just went down like a lead balloon.”

“What was it ?” questioned the witch.

“Oh. I think it had something to do with the internet. He spent hours in central London working on it these last weeks. But it did not worked as he wanted because of a wall of fire, not a literal one, do not worry. I asked. And he has been brooding since. He will get better with time, poor dear, but it had been a blow to his ego.”

“Something to do with the internet ?” repeated Newton, moving a pawn.

“Yes, something about… shutting down a book about faces, whatever that could be. I am afraid I did not listened very attentively. Computers are not my...”

The silence felt suddenly very heavy, and Aziraphale stopped focusing on his game to look at the two humans.

“What ? What did I say ?”

“Aziraphale,” sighed Newt “are you telling us that Crowley wants to shut down Facebook’s servers ?”

“Oh !” the angel brightened “Yes, that was the name ! Why are you two looking at me like that ?” he added with confusion.

“I can help shut down a server. I mean… it’s me,” Newt pointed at his chest with an expectant air.

“Oh. Oh, I… I didn’t think about it at all ! I am sure Crowley did not either.”

“Call him back immediately, we are _all_ going out to shut down Facebook !” shouted Anathema, marching to the coat rack with great determination, already on the warpath.

A day at the bookshop was _always_ a treat.


End file.
